Last night, as I stood under the stars, the waxing crescent moon caught my eye. Over the next 10 days, its light will steadily grow until it is high in the sky illuminating the midnight field as if it were twilight. In that same period of time, I imagine the snow and ice will continue their slow and steady melt.
The signs of spring are clear. The eaves of the roof are dripping steadily. In the morning, the smell of the skunk who passed in the night lingers and the early birds declare their presence persistently. The critters are stirring. It is no wonder that I am stirring too.
I am a lover of light. My body is fully aware that we are nearing the spring equinox. The current cycle of the moon amplifies that recognition. Longer, brighter, warmer days infuse my body with energy, my mind with creativity, and my heart with gratitude. Bright moonlit nights encourage me to linger on my evening walk.
While the light is growing, the darkness is receding. There is a gentle gestation that can only happen under the shroud of darkness and the deep contemplative, hibernation of winter. It is hard to simply let go of the safety and comfort of the dark cave that has held and nurtured me through the last few long months. But when I honor it and give thanks for it, I can hold both the shrinking, dark coolness and the expanding bright warmth with equal appreciation.
As I approach the last three months of my interfaith ministry program with ChIME, I am reminded to remain present. The present moment is the only time and place to experience the fullness of life’s offering. There is abundant beauty, love and learning in each moment. I feel them each deeply when I attend to the reality that each moment contains that delicate balance between light and dark, ending and beginning.